The Road To Hell...

In an effort to restore harmony and goodwill to my nature, I am taking a mini-vacation next week.

I am traveling down to the mountains, staying at a posh resort and I plan on flirting madly with the obscenely young bellboys.

No kids, no husband, no dog. Just me. And my mother. Somebody, shoot me now. It will save me a lot of money, and I'm sure it won't be nearly as painful as being trapped in small quarters with the lady who gave me life.

The upside is the free booze, plush accommodations and the gourmet food I will be ingesting. (Good thing I didn't buy any skinny jeans. I am sure to pack on a few extra pounds...)

The downside is, well, my mother. But I'm trying to look at the upside to this mini-vacation. I'm going to be trapped in a vehicle for five hours,alone with my mother, to listen to her nag, whine and criticize. I will have ample time to learn something new about my mother during our travels. I am going to have to drink like a fish to keep my sanity. I plan on taking advantage of the free wine-tasting courses available at the Lodge. I am going to have to sleep with one eye open the entire time. I should remember to bring my own pillows.

How did I get sucked into this expensive, ill-advised mini-vacation from hell, you ask?

I was duped. I was supposed to be going with my sister, who backed out at the last second and my darling mom decided to take her place. I was trapped like a rat.

So now I am looking for a sitter for Nixon, the World's Greatest Dog. Ever.

Because the people I am trusting with my children are notorious dog killers.

And I don't trust them with my hairy, farthing baby.

Ironic, isn't it? They're good enough for my flesh, but not good enough for my pup.

And after four days of hell, you can bet your ass this momma is gonna need a lot of doggy kisses to recover from her personal perdition.